


the caress of your clothes

by dalyeau



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, akaashi in a skirt is the only plot i need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalyeau/pseuds/dalyeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a bet is lost and Akaashi wears a skirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the caress of your clothes

**Author's Note:**

> this is sort of a vague continuation of [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2815943). you seriously don't need to read it to get this one but there are a couple of references that will make more sense if you do. i might write more in this "verse" and just call it the pretty boy akaashi verse, because he's. he's so pretty.
> 
> pls check out [this fanart](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B69afUEIAAAEEJJ.jpg:large) my friend slip made of skirt akaashi because... yeah ....... oh god

Bokuto assumes responsibility for it, really – as the captain of the club, it's his fault this is where they are right now. Akaashi had tried to warn him against it, please think about it twice, Bokuto-san, but Bokuto had shaken his head and patted him on the back and told him to chill, Akaashi, it's going to be alright.

It wasn't alright.

It was more like, the girls absolutely butchering them without a hint of mercy.

It was Bokuto and Kana, the captain and setter of Fukurodani's volleyball club for girls, agreeing to spice up their annual practice match between their teams with a little bet to add some more adrenaline and emotion. It was Bokuto saying that if the boys won, the girls would have to make lunch for his team for three days, and Kana counterattacking saying that if her team was victorious, the boys would have to wear Fukurodani's female uniform for a week. It was their teams listening and the boys nodding approvingly, looking hopeful (little did they know, Bokuto thinks dryly) while the girls giggled and watched them with a glint in their eyes that should have warned Bokuto of what was going to happen.

It was the girls winning both sets one after the other, with a ten point difference in each. Bokuto going into at least three dejected modes and Akaashi pulling him out of them to the best of his ability, but without it being any help in the end. The girls being as strong as Shiratorizawa, if not stronger, with their meteor-like spikes, perfectly timed collective attacks, a libero that could receive with her goddamn hip, and tosses so carefully practiced they might as well have been as accurate as a bullet right between the brows.

So yeah, maybe Bokuto should have paid attention to his vice-captain's (and boyfriend's) warnings and not made that one bet that has all of his team walking around the school in skirts, flushed bright red every time they step out into the hallways.

There's the expected staring, the typical pointing fingers and giggles, the raised eyebrows from other boys that aren't in the club; but all in all, Bokuto would say it isn't that bad, at least in his experience. He's wearing his kneepads under his skirt because he's not cruel enough to expose all of Fukurodani Academy to his naked unshaved legs, and the girls' uniform is actually pretty comfortable if he doesn't think about the fact that to get to this point he had to be humiliated as a captain and player.

His teammates are carrying it as best as they can while dying of embarrassment, but Bokuto still has to deal with the empty, dead inside stares he gets whenever he crosses paths with one of them in the hallways. Konoha looks fairly nice in the skirt though, and he seems not to care that much, Bokuto finds out when he catches a glimpse of him during lunchtime scratching the back of his neck as a girl comments on how well it fits him.

And then there's Akaashi.

It's not like Bokuto isn't used to Akaashi being pretty much the most gorgeous sight to exist -he's very, very well aware of that- but he'd supposed there had to be a limit somewhere. The guy looks pretty while sleeping with twisted limbs and a little bit of drooling involved, at morning with a bedhead and swollen eyes from waking up so early, even sick with a fever and sweating to death (not that Bokuto likes that one; he prefers him healthy and fine). Surely there had to be something he couldn't pull off. Probably a female uniform.

Akaashi perfectly pulls off a female uniform.

He's wearing black tights under the gray skirt, and his legs look long and elegant and lean and perfect, even better than they had those couple of weeks when he'd been wearing Bokuto's kneepads, a Situation that had already been a problem to deal with. The white shirt fits him nicely, loose in all the right places and buttoned up to his neck, and the bow tie seals the deal and adds that cute touch that makes Bokuto's fingers tingle with the need to cup Akaashi's face between his hands and kiss him senseless. The jacket's sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and it waves a little behind him as Akaashi walks down the corridors with a couple of books under his arm looking absolutely, one hundred percent fine with wearing a girl's outfit in public, his expression as collected as always, steps sure and firm and stopping for a moment for him to exhange polite words with his classmate.

He stands there with a hand on his hip and Bokuto watches him, open-mouthed, swallowing hard. His throat feels raw and dry, and his eyes scan Akaashi's whole figure slowly (he's allowed, he tells himself, this is not like the kneepads thing), from the small shoes all the way up his covered legs and the skirt that is short enough for Bokuto to picture his naked thighs, a sight that he's been treated to a couple of times in the past.

“Holy shit,” Bokuto breathes out, and Akaashi turns to him and they lock eyes for a moment until Bokuto flushes bright red and Akaashi gives him a pointed stare that says _Please don't, Bokuto-san._ He walks away with his classmate and Bokuto is left staring at the way his skirt moves and folds with every step, the nice outline of Akaashi's torso under that shirt and jacket that really should not look that good on a guy. Really. They shouldn't.

Bokuto smiles.

 _Meet me in the gym's changing room after class, we have some important club business to discuss!_ he texts, and Akaashi does not reply back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Bokuto-san, I hope you're not planning on pretending there's any actual business we have to talk about,” Akaashi warns him as he walks in, eyes narrowed in what is nearly a glare but not quite.

Bokuto holds his hands up. “Guilty. I just needed to take a moment to admire the view.”

Now _that_ is a full-blown glare, with a sidedish of pursed lips and a cherry on top that is the resigned sigh that leaves Akaashi's lips.

“Is it my legs again? We still have three days left with this, please try to focus on other things.”

Bokuto stands up, no longer wearing the uniform they'd been punished with, since school time is over and the deal was that they could change out of it as soon as classes were finished. Akaashi, on the other hand, is still wearing it without a hint of self-doubt, just as Bokuto suspected he would. The guy really lacks any sort of sense of self-consciousness, which Bokuto has to admit is pretty justified anyway since he can (oh god oh god) actually pull of _a girl's uniform._

He crosses the distance between them, and Akaashi's shoulders rise a little in anticipation but he doesn't say anything to stop him, and when Bokuto backs him up against the lockers Akaashi lets himself be guided until he no longer has any routes of escape. Something as simple as that, just the fact that Akaashi blindly allows Bokuto to take this where he wants, is enough to make heat pool in his stomach, thick and heavy.

“You look good,” Bokuto blurts out, and he wishes it came out smooth and seductive but instead it's a lot more like an awkward, over-excited mumble. “The... skirt. It looks really good on you, Akaashi.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says, and the glare is gone, replaced by the fondness of his voice.

“I like your legs.”

“I'm aware.” When Bokuto cups Akaashi's cheek like he's been wanting to all day, Akaashi leans into it. “We already established that when we had that problem with your kneepads, Bokuto-san.”

“I know!” Bokuto's thumb brushes over Akaashi's cheekbone. “It's different, though. Like, you looked real good back then, seriously – but now it's like. Well, like.” His forehead scrunches up into a frown as he tries to come up with something that could properly describe. “Like gwah! Like, gahhh!”

“You've been texting Hinata Shouyou, haven't you?”

“Focus, Akaashi! I'm trying to be a complimentary boyfriend here.”

Akaashi looks down at himself and his outfit and shrugs. “It's comfortable. I prefer our normal uniforms but this isn't bad by any means. The bow could be discarded, though, I don't really see why it's necessary.”

“I bet it has an use or two,” Bokuto tells him, and he grabs him by the bow tie and tugs, until they're a breath apart and their lips are brushing but not quite touching, and Akaashi lets out another one of his sighs. The air that filters into Bokuto's mouth, he seals it with a kiss.

It's a good kiss. They've gotten better at this over the past half a year, with lots of practice on Bokuto's couch when his parents aren't home, or in Akaashi's bed when it's dark and silent past midnight and he's staying the night with the excuse of a futon next to Akaashi's bed that doesn't really see much use. Akaashi only likes to kiss when he's feeling like it, which is not as often as Bokuto, but when he does it's so dedicated and thorough that it never fails to make Bokuto's head spin all over the place. Akaashi's mouth is warm against his, and Bokuto always feels like his knees turn to jelly when he gets to taste the heat of his tongue, lower lip hypersensitive to the edge of Akaashi's teeth grazing over it gently.

“Rice balls and...” Bokuto licks his lips and thinks. “Sushi?”

“And an apple,” Akaashi says, long resigned to Bokuto trying to guess what he's had for lunch whenever they kiss after school.

“I was gonna say that, but I wasn't so sure.” Bokuto pouts, and Akaashi kisses the pout and grabs him by the back of his neck to pull him in and fit their mouths together again. Bokuto forgets all about rice balls, sushi or apples.

“You really look amazing,” he tells Akaashi between kisses, and maybe his heart does that skipping-a-beat thing when he places his hand on Akaashi's thigh and Akaashi doesn't protest when Bokuto takes it higher.

He slides it under Akaashi's skirt, the fabric soft like a caress against his skin, and Bokuto's pretty sure his head is going to implode or something from blood loss since it seems all of it has traveled south when he reaches the point where Akaashi's tights end and his bare thighs begin. He's touched them before, quite a few times, but this time it's different; this time he doesn't get to properly see, only touch, hand moving up Akaashi's long legs under his uniform. He watches in awe the way the skirt is pushed up as his wrist goes higher and higher, and the sharp breath he inhales is echoed by Akaashi's shaky gasp when Bokuto's fingers reach his cock.

He works it carefully, sweet friction of the heel of his hand against Akaashi, pressing in the places Bokuto has learned he likes it best. When Akaashi tilts his head back against the lockers, Bokuto _has_ to kiss it; he _has_ to dip his tongue in the hollow of his throat, press his lips to the quick pulse of his jugular. Akaashi's arms come up to circle his shoulders, holding tight onto them, and Bokuto strokes him through all of it, slipping his hand under Akaashi's tight boxers and wrapping his fingers around him. He's hard and hot in Bokuto's grip, cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink, his tights bunched somewhere low on his thighs, and when he comes it's with a dry, choked moan that Bokuto will probably remember until his dying day, which might as well be today because Akaashi is sometimes _too much,_ and this is one of those times.

He rests his forehead against Akaashi's, trembling a little. He's so hard it's a bit painful and he's more than ready to get himself off (he had ambushed Akaashi after all, it's not his responsibility to take care of Bokuto's high libido) but Akaashi beats him to it, grabbing Bokuto by the arms and turning both around until Bokuto's the one with his back against the cold, hard lockers. He presses a brief kiss to the corner of Bokuto's mouth before dropping to his knees, in all his female-clothed glory.

“Keiji,” Bokuto says in surprise, calling out his first name like he does every time Akaashi does something so not Akaashi. “You-”

“Quiet, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi pretty much _shush_ es him, hooking his fingers on Bokuto's pants and underwear and pulling both down, exposing his erection. He looks up from under his eyelashes, all languid and calm after an orgasm, and smiles the kind of promising smile that drives Bokuto up the walls with want.

“Your skirt is going to get dirty,” he says.

It really will, though, it's brushing the floor and Akaashi should be more careful-

Akaashi's mouth is on his dick.

He's done this before a couple of times, but never like this, never actually on his knees – it was always with Bokuto lying down on the bed and Akaashi pushing his thighs apart and settling between them, sucking him off slow and nice, and the position was always too inconvenient for Bokuto to see him. Now he can, though. Now he gets to look down and see the soft pink of Akaashi's lips wrapped around him, the way his cock disappears and reappears every time he sucks him down, every time he drags his mouth to the tip. He's holding it with his hand and stroking the flesh his lips can't quite reach, the other pinning Bokuto's hip to the locker behind him. Bokuto's hand finds Akaashi's and he intertwines their fingers, squeezing them in pleasure every time Akaashi's tongue presses against the spot that makes Bokuto shake with his whole body.

What makes his thighs shake the most, though, is the sight of Akaashi Keiji on his knees before him in a girl's uniform, tights dark around his pale thighs, his bow tie crooked and his jacket slipping off one of his shoulders.

His skirt higher than it should be, wrinkled and disarranged by Bokuto's own hands.

He comes saying _Keiji_ again, because it's not a secret that he likes it; Akaashi may always call him Bokuto-san, unshielding, but Bokuto likes the way Akaashi's first name tastes on his lips and rolls off his tongue. He says _Keiji_ and again _Keiji_ and one more time for good measure - _Keiji-_ as Akaashi swallows and then presses a kiss to Bokuto's hipbone.

He's in a hazy pool of post-orgasm pleasure that doesn't allow him to say much more as he watches Akaashi roll his tights up, straighten his bow tie, pull his jacket up properly and get up, tugging his skirt down.

“Please don't,” he says, covering his mouth when Bokuto makes to kiss him, and Bokuto knows it should be somewhat offending but Akaashi is just so Akaashi about it, looking satisfied and vaguely indignated that Bokuto would try such a thing, that he can't bring himself to care.

“Grumpy,” Bokuto complains without malice as he pulls his pants up, smiling.

“It's only Tuesday, we're not doing this every day,” Akaashi assures him firmly.

Bokuto flashes him a predatory grin.

“I accept this challenge.”

He's going to have to play the heavy cards, though. Bokuto wonders how painful shaving his legs could possibly be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i will die on my hill with this headcanon that yeah, the male volleyball teams in haikyuu are strong, but they all lose against their girl counterparts. all of them. karasuno, seijou, fukurodani, nekoma, shiratorizawa. all of them. they all get dragged by the girls. 
> 
> i have way too many headcanons about akaashi and conventionally girly things so, i will be back (╯◕_◕)╯


End file.
